


Tempest

by princedamianos (cuteashale)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-05 19:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10315484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteashale/pseuds/princedamianos
Summary: Laurent doesn't like storms.





	1. Auguste

**Author's Note:**

> this is a character study (of sorts) on Laurent and his three different interactions with three different people while exposed to the same stimuli. it's finished (the last chapter needs some minor edits) so it should be up in full over the next week or so.

Thunder booms and the echo of sound seems to shake the bed where Laurent lies prone, trembling, in the center of it. Three harsh, too-quick beats of his heart later and lightning flashes, illuminating pale blue eyes shocked wide open with fear.

  
  
The next clap of thunder propels Laurent out of bed. His bare feet are near silent on the tiled floor as he slips through the door of his chambers and makes his way through the empty halls. Guards stand at attention at the head of each corridor; Laurent avoids them easily, his small stature and careful tiptoeing allowing him to sneak easily from hallway to hallway with none the wiser.

 

His destination is a room at the other end of this palace wing. The door makes no sound as he pushes it open, though a faint gasp leaves him as thunder rumbles threateningly through the air. Lightning crackles and, for a split second, Laurent sees his path with blinding clarity.

 

He runs.

 

Warm blankets cover him as he worms his way from the foot of the bed up. The lump in the center of the mattress doesn’t move as Laurent crawls on his hands and knees toward it.

 

Auguste’s sleep-warm body is a welcome respite from the chill that permeates the palace grounds amid this rain. Laurent curls into a ball at his brother’s chest, eyes screwed tightly shut as thunder shakes him to his core. His trembling causes Auguste to stir, wide arms tightening around Laurent’s body as he wakes.

 

“Mm,” says Auguste, slow with sleep. “Laurent?” Laurent is silent, one of his hands at his brother’s side, petite fingers curling in the comfort of soft linen. Auguste squeezes him more securely, until Laurent can scarcely breathe.

 

“Auguste,” he squeaks, kicking gently at Auguste’s stomach, “You’re going to crush me to death.”

 

Laughter rumbles in Auguste’s chest as he loosens his grip and tucks Laurent into his side. One arm cradles him in the security Laurent was searching for when he ran here. “Of course I’m not,” he yawns after the sleep is blinked from his eyes. Using his free hand to brush fine blond hair out of Laurent’s face, he cups his cheek. “Now tell me, what is my brave little brother is doing in my room so late at night?”

 

Laurent hesitates, reluctant to admit his weakness. Auguste continues, “Have you come to reassure me in the face of this ghastly storm?”

 

Eyes wide, Laurent nods.

 

“Thank goodness,” breathes Auguste. “I was worried I’d have to face my fears alone. But you’re here to protect me, are you not?” Again, Laurent nods, a tiny smile beginning to tilt the corners of his mouth. Auguste chuckles warmly, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s forehead. “Thank goodness,” he says again.

 

After another flash of lightning illuminates the room, Auguste lifts the mound of blankets over their heads, cocooning them in warmth and blocking out the sound of the storm. His arm does not release its protective grip around Laurent as they settle comfortably, Laurent tucked beneath his chin.

 

“Would you like to hear a story?” he offers, petting Laurent’s down-soft hair.

 

“Yes, please,” Laurent whispers, rubbing his face against Auguste’s sleep shirt.

 

Auguste begins to speak in a low voice, telling of a little prince’s adventure in the stars above. At length, Laurent relaxes. Auguste’s words blur and his voice becomes a murmur like the patter of the rain on the windows. Laurent cannot keep his eyelids from drooping. His grip on Auguste’s shirt eases and his mouth goes slack as he sleeps, safe and sound in the arms of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment and let me know your thoughts! if you want to, feel free to follow my [tumblr](http://princedamianos.tumblr.com)
> 
> thanks for reading :)


	2. The Regent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i underestimated my ability to 1) forget that i had posted this and 2) put off updating because I ran into a snag with the third chapter. but! this one is done and i'm sorry in advance.

The thunder is louder than the pounding in Laurent’s head as he staggers down the empty hall. There is no stealth in his movement as he veers from one wall to the other, knees weak from drink and grief in equal measure.

  


His fist lands weakly against the door to his uncle’s chambers. The guards at the end of the hall look like hazy statues from where Laurent slumps with his lolling head against the thick wood door. He pounds his fist again, with only slightly more force. “Uncle,” he croaks. “Uncle, please.”

  


The next time his fist falls it connects with a warm chest that gives under the pressure. Laurent’s eyes climb from the lapels of a hastily closed robe up to the tired face of his uncle, the Regent.

  


“Laurent,” comes his voice, sliding like the wine to coil hot and sick in his belly. Laurent buckles, tipping forward into the Regent’s chest where he bursts into heavy, gasping sobs.

  


“There, there,” his uncle says, a proprietary hand coming to rest in the fitful tangle of Laurent’s hair. “Come inside, sweet boy. I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a kudo and/or comment! they keep me alive


	3. Damianos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a hectic couple weeks, folks. i hope this lives up to the wait!
> 
> enjoy :)

In Ios storms are as much in the water as they are in the sky. Damen sleeps soundly beside him, undisturbed by the roaring surf or claps of thunder that have Laurent flinching. He avoids looking out the window, instead focusing his gaze on the steady rise and fall of Damen’s bare chest.

  


A flash of lightning washes the room in white. Laurent’s eyes squeeze closed and, when they open, Damen is blinking blearily at him. “Laurent? What’s wrong?” he mumbles, his accent stronger in sleep. “You made a noise.”

  


“I did not,” is Laurent’s immediate response, followed shortly by a flinch and an involuntary whimper. His jaw shifts, clenching. Damen pushes himself upright, smothering a yawn behind one hand. He extends that same hand toward Laurent, who, after a beat, takes it and curls himself into Damen’s chest.

  


Both of Damen’s arms wrap securely around him. A large, gentle hand cradles the back of his head and Laurent takes the silent invitation to press his face into Damen’s neck and breathe him in. He smells of leather from a midday ride, and Laurent is comforted by the familiar aroma.

  


For several minutes, there is no sound but the raging storm. Laurent knows Damen hasn’t fallen back to sleep; he can feel his fingers combing through the ends of his hair. Then, very quietly, Laurent speaks against Damen’s shoulder.

  


“When I was small,” he says, “I used to sneak into Auguste’s rooms when there was a storm. He would let me sleep beside him and pretend that I was protecting him from the thunder and lightning. He’d tell me stories.” Laurent closes his eyes. “I’d fall asleep to the sound of his voice.”

  


“He was a good brother.” Damen is cautious, as he always is when Auguste is mentioned.

  


“Yes,” says Laurent, simply. “It was – after.” Laurent’s voice shakes, briefly, then steels. “After, I went to my uncle.”

  


“Laurent–”

  


“Let me finish.” Damen is silent, hand resting on the back of Laurent’s neck. He continues. “I would go to him, drunk and grieving. He’d take me inside and – put me to bed.”

  


He doesn’t expect Damen to have a response to that. He also doesn’t expect Damen gently rolling them onto their sides; Damen drawing the blankets up to their shoulders; Damen letting Laurent hide in the curve of his neck where it’s warm and safe. Their legs tangle, bare against the sheets.

  


“What were the stories?” asks Damen. His voice is quiet, the words whispered to the top of Laurent’s head like the secrets being shared in the dark. “The ones Auguste told you. I’d like to hear one.”

  


“Would you?”

  


Damen kisses the crown of Laurent’s head. “Please,” he says.

  


“They were usually about the stars.” Laurent works his arm around Damen, fingers trailing against the scars on his back. “I was fascinated when I was young. Auguste indulged me.” The wind howls outside. Laurent lifts his head from Damen’s chest and faces him, nose to nose on the pillow. “They usually started with a journey.”

  


“As all good stories should.”

  


Smiling, Laurent recounts his favorite story, spinning a tale of adventure and excitement for a boy in the stars. An answering smile grows on Damen’s lips as he listens, soft laughter puffing against Laurent’s mouth.

  


Laurent begins to count the seconds between a crinkle of Damen’s eyes and the spread of his smile rather than the seconds between thunder and lightning. By the time the storm has ceased, he and Damen are both laughing, foreheads pressed together as they share this moment.

  


“It’s over,” Damen says, his words warm against Laurent’s lips. “The storm.”

  


Laurent’s heart gallops in his chest as he touches Damen’s face. “Yes,” he whispers. “It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i'd appreciate any feedback you have to offer and maybe some requests for other fics! i have another in the works but my muse is fickle so suggestions are always welcome.


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